The Family - Mario Puzo [126]
Jofre said, “You are still angry with him, and for good reason. But it is possible your hatred for him will pass in time.”
Sancia knew better, but she understood that both she and Alfonso were in a dangerous circumstance, and so this time she held her tongue. Yet she wondered just what Jofre thought about his father—what he would even dare to feel.
He had climbed into bed alongside her now, and was leaning on his arm facing her; and again, as before, she was aware of his innocence. “Jofre,” she said, touching his cheek, “I have always admitted that when we married I found you young and thought you slow-witted. But since I’ve begun to understand you, I see the goodness of your soul. I know you are capable of love in ways others in your family are not.”
“Crezia loves,” Jofre defended. Remembering how loyally his brother had kept his secret, he was tempted to add, and Cesare loves. But instead he held his tongue.
“Yes, Crezia does love, and that is unfortunate, for her heart will be torn to pieces by the boundless ambition of both your father and your brother,” Sancia said. “Can’t you see who they are?”
“Father believes in his mission to the church,” Jofre explained. “And Cesare wishes Rome to be as formidable as it was in the time of his namesake, Julius Caesar. He believes his calling is to fight holy wars.”
Sancia smiled gently at Jofre. “Have you ever considered what your calling is? Has anyone ever asked, or noticed? And how is it you can keep from hating the brother who steals the admiration of your father, or the father who scarcely acknowledges you?”
Jofre ran his hand over the smooth olive skin of her shoulders. The touch of her flesh gave him great pleasure. “I dreamed, as I was growing up, of becoming a cardinal. Always. The smell of Papa’s garments, when he held me as a very young child and I rested on his shoulder, filled me with the love of God and the desire to serve him. But before I was able to choose, Father found a use for me in Naples. In my marriage to you. And so it was that I came to love you with the love I’d saved for God.”
His total devotion to her only increased her desire to show him how much had been stolen from him.
“The Holy Father is often ruthless in his aims,” Sancia said. “Do you see that ruthlessness, though it’s cloaked in reason? And Cesare’s ambition approaches madness—do you not see that?”
Jofre closed his eyes. “My love, I see more than you know.”
Sancia kissed him passionately, and they made love. He was a kind and careful lover after these years, for she had taught him. And above all, he wished to bring her pleasure.
Afterward, they lay together, and though Jofre was silent, Sancia felt she must warn him in order to protect herself. “Jofre, my love,” she said. “If your family tried to kill my brother, or at the very least didn’t try to stop it, and they have sent me away for political gain, how much longer do you think we will be safe? How much longer do you think they will allow us to be together?”
Jofre said menacingly, “I will allow nothing to separate us.” It was not so much a statement of love as a promise to avenge.
Cesare had spent the morning riding through the streets of Rome questioning the citizens about Alfonso’s attack. Had anyone heard rumors of strangers in the city? Had anyone seen anything that could help in the search? When nothing came of his questioning, he returned to the Vatican, where Alexander reminded him to meet with Cardinal Riario to discuss plans for the jubilee.
They had lunch together on the terrace of the cardinal’s palace, and Cesare offered compensation for the many planned festivals, as well as the cleanup of the city.
Afterward, they walked down the narrow alley to the shop of an art dealer who sold antiquities. Cardinal Riario had a fine private collection, and the dealer, who came highly recommended, had an exquisite new sculpture that